The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) (12 page)

“No, obviously I can see that he’s very bright, just wondering. I don’t know a damn thing about kids.” He shook his head and turned back to his desk and the stack of paperwork that awaited him there.

Sabrina knew that the sooner Alex could attend preschool with other little kids his age the faster he would want to communicate. She had been with him since he was born and by now, she knew his needs so well he didn’t have to say much. He didn’t have to say anything really to have those needs met. She could hardly blame it on Vlad much as she might want to. She had delayed sending his application paperwork to the preschool because she feared the authorities discovering she was Alex’s sister. But she knew Alex needed the company of other kids his age. Right now, that was something she could not provide and it weighed on her.

“So, Sabrina?”

“Yes?” She stopped again at the door.

“Tonight we can share a snack with Alex when he has his dinner. Mrs. Egan is coming over and we’re going out.”

“Out? Oh.”

She lifted her eyebrows, but she didn’t ask any questions. This was his ballgame. Obviously part of the PR campaign.

And besides, Sabrina was flummoxed, truly unnerved, by the constant sense of his gaze on her body. He would look away and, of course, he might look into her eyes at times but then always, as if pulled, she felt his navy gaze scorch over her breasts or her hair and often her legs. He didn’t say anything; she wondered if he was truly aware he did it, but it left Sabrina weakened with the need for his hands, his lips and his body to follow suit. She was left feeling like a blithering fool unable to form words, a victim of everything he had taught her body to crave.

Mrs. Egan arrived as Alex was starting his dinner and Sabrina and Vlad became superfluous at that point. Alex greeted the older lady with enthusiastic delight.

Moments later when Vlad left the room to change, Mrs. Egan shook her head at Sabrina after giving an all-encompassing glance around Vlad’s spectacular apartment.

“Sure an’ Alex looks just like his daddy,” Mrs. Egan declared in her charming lilt as she set out Alex’s dessert, and what could Sabrina say?

People were funny. They saw what they wanted to see, and Mrs. Egan had romanticized this situation as a great reunion between star-crossed lovers. Just because Alex and Vlad shared similar coloring, the case was closed in her book. Sabrina could see Mrs. Egan wondered if she had lost her marbles for keeping her relationship and Alex’s supposed parentage a secret. And Sabrina couldn’t refute anything that Mrs. Egan’s comment implied. Vlad wanted everybody to believe they were together, and she had to follow the script.

Although she had no idea where they were going, some devil had her choose one of her favorite looks from the day’s shopping spree, something she had chosen without the assistance of the personal shopper. Was it only that morning?

She examined her reflection in the six-foot Venetian glass mirror that would have been equally at home in the Gritti Palace. Long black leather leggings tucked into thigh-high black boots, topped by a flowing, asymmetrical, black sweater reminiscent of angora. The trick of the sweater was that it covered a barely there cropped, silk blouse.

She felt good: she felt sexy and powerful. Like she could stand up to the worst Vlad could throw at her. She’d blown out her hair so that it fell in smooth ripples down her back. Pale lip-gloss and lots of mascara and she was ready.

Vlad’s text was to the point.—
Please join me in my office when you’re ready.
—

Shaking her head at his abrupt tone that was almost redolent of the way she had been summoned as a VGI employee, Sabrina was forced to remind herself again. This wasn’t a romance, this was all for show. She might not be an employee any more, but she was still doing a job.

****

He noticed she always stood in a room with him as if she were scouting her exit for a quick departure. In this case, it was probably a good idea, because with the way she looked tonight he would have taken her on the desk if her back weren’t glued to the door. Then again, the door would work just as well he realized, and his erection hardened painfully. Her legs were endless in the leathers. His mouth watered as he saw her belly button and part of her taut tummy flash when her sweater moved. He had to get her out in public or he would not be responsible for what was definitely going to happen. But he wasn’t getting her out in front of eight million other New Yorkers until…

“I have something for you.” In his palm he had an opened box, a small jeweler’s box.

Sabrina gaped at the five carats of dazzling emerald surrounded by star-like yellow and white diamonds. She backed further into the door. Her expression was horrified.

“I couldn’t wear that.” She shook her head as if willing the box in his hand to disappear.

“You have to wear it,” he insisted. “Think of it as another item of clothing.”
Or a brand that proclaimed ‘ALL MINE’
.

“No.” She kept shaking her head, her gaze glued to the ring in the box. “I might lose it.”

“It’s insured.”

He took the ring out of its bed and threaded it on her right ring finger. It fit.

She looked up at him the question in her eyes making them larger than the emerald on her hand.

“In Russia, engagement and wedding rings are worn on the right hand.” He supplied the answer to her unspoken question.

“Will people know that?” As soon as the words were out, her face flamed.

“The correct people will know what it means,” he said.
And I know what it means,
he thought with satisfaction.

“I…it’s very beautiful,” she said, staring down at her hand.

“I agree,” he responded looking at the top of her head.

****

That night they stopped in at three different Russian nightclubs: two in Brooklyn and one in Manhattan. The music was Western rock, pop, and blues. Vlad kept Sabrina anchored to his side while he introduced her to the various owners of the establishments all of whom greeted him like a brother, clapped him on the back, and offered toasts in their honor.

After her third shot of vodka, after he saw her wobble in her heeled boots, Vlad pulled her tighter into the circle of his arm, and they were shown to a small table in full view of the frenetic dance floor where they ate blini and caviar.

Yuri Abromovsky joined them at the third club and immediately began conversing with Vlad in Russian. Vlad responded in English but Yuri continued his obvious exclusion of Sabrina from their conversation.

Sabrina stood up. “Please speak freely,” she said tilting her head at Yuri. “I need to visit the restroom anyway.”

As she rose, Vlad grasped her wrist. When she looked down her nose at his hand, he relinquished his hold on her; his jaw hardening with the effort it cost him to sit still and watch her walk, unaccompanied, to the ladies room.

“Ah, my friend, she is very beautiful,” Yuri stated in their mother tongue, watching the subtle sway of hips as Sabrina made her way to the back of the club.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Vlad retorted. He wanted to rip his friend’s eyes out. No, that wasn’t it. He just… “And it wouldn’t kill you to speak in English, would it? What did they teach you at Harvard anyway?”

Yuri shook his head and eyed Vlad. “This task is not so hard as it seemed.”

“I’m waiting for the documents, Yuri. Send them to me as soon as they’re ready.” Vlad got back to business.

“Da. Of course. You’ll have them shortly. Vlad, you know, I mean no offense. But let’s face it, this would have been so much worse if some homely bag lady had made the claims she did.” He nodded down the way Sabrina had walked moments before. “No wonder the media went crazy. No one could possibly doubt you wanted to bed this one and maybe forgot the necessary precautions, eh?”

“My friend—and I only use that word because you’re my lawyer and we’ve known each other for fifteen years—stop talking, now.”

Vlad felt the vein throbbing in his temple and he knew he might throttle Yuri if he kept on speaking. He grabbed a shot of vodka from a passing waiter’s tray and downed it.

Sabrina strolled back to the table, her gaze fixed on Vlad. When she reached them, a photographer popped out of nowhere and snapped a picture of them. Sabrina was visibly startled and stumbled backward shielding her eyes.

Vlad saw her reaction and reached up to pull her to him. Blinded by the flash and hampered by the healthy quantity of vodka in her system, she lost balance and landed in his lap.

Yuri stood up. “Perfect! That was a great shot. It will be on Page Six tomorrow or I’ll have that guy’s press credentials.” He made his excuses and left them.

****

Sabrina scolded herself for a dolt. How many times did she have to be told to realize this was all fictitious? When she walked back to the table toward Vlad, it was as if the entire club, the whole world, had disappeared. She saw only his navy gaze glimmering over her, and the heat of it scorched her. Her body responded on its own volition; she had no control over the way her breasts plumped and tightened. Nor could she restrain the damp heat that rushed to that place between her thighs.

But the photographer’s appearance and Yuri’s words speedily brought her back to the real world.

Before she could say a word or even look at him, Vlad pulled her onto the small dance floor. It was dark except for the strobe light over them, and the air was sharp with the scent of sweat and alcohol.

Sabrina was in heaven. She gave in to her fantasy. Or at least one of them. She noted the secret and not-so-secret glances of every other woman there.
Back off ladies, he’s mine.
Vlad literally towered over the majority of the guys present. In black jeans and a leather blazer that hugged what she thought of as his boxer’s physique, he oozed a dangerous kind of sex appeal.

She snuggled in as the music changed to a bluesy pop number. She could feel her heart pounding, or was that his? It didn’t matter. She knew this was a moment she would take out, examine, and cherish in the future. Wow, that was a depressing thought. She pushed it away, forcibly blanked her mind, and resolved to simply feel. She was playing a role, wasn’t she?

Her hands clasped loosely around his neck as they swayed to the music. Plastered as she was against him, she could feel the press of his erection and knew her breasts pushed insistently into his chest. His large, warm hand moved to where the sweater rode up and he smoothed the soft bare skin of her hip.

“Mmmm.” Sabrina’s moan was involuntary but she was unfazed by her abandon in a public place. This was where she wanted to be—forever. Vlad drew her back into him again, his other hand covering her rear as he pulled her into contact with his hardened thighs.

Then the music began to boom louder and faster with a popular tune and even more people flooded the floor. Her hair flowed wildly around them. A strand whipped across his throat.

“Enough!” he said. Abruptly, he pulled his body away from hers and tugged her from the small dance floor.

“Let’s go. I don’t think anyone would doubt now that we’re lovers.”

It took a moment for Sabrina’s muddled brain to comprehend his words and then a cold, shameful sweat washed over her. He’d deliberately pulled her out to dance in front of the crowd. There was no true emotion behind any of this. As if the photo taken by his own hired paparazzo hadn’t been enough, Vlad made certain that no one looking at them could doubt she was his. His what? His bedmate? His fake fiancée?

Sabrina drew herself up and walked regally out of the club, her face composed. No way would she allow anyone to see the hurt and confusion churning through her at this moment. As they got into the town car flashbulbs lit all around them and Sabrina was ready this time. Her face was serene.
Good, get your pictures.
The sooner everybody got the idea, the sooner this would be unnecessary and over, and she could get back her normal life.

****

Vlad barked directions at Sergei whose puzzled face shone in the rearview mirror that surely he had not forgotten the way to Vlad’s apartment. But Vlad was pointing out shortcuts because he couldn’t get there fast enough. He was torn between the temptation to take Sabrina right here and now in the backseat of a chauffeured car versus on the floor as soon as they walked into the apartment.

Denial for even a day was killing him. He had to admit that something about her was designed to rouse him as no other woman ever had. He decided then that he would have her and he would sate himself while this charade played out.

He pushed open the door to see Mrs. Egan emerge from the living room. Tamping down the demands of his rebellious body, he greeted her with brusque warmth. “So the car will pick you up and bring you home. A pity you can’t sleep in the spare room when you watch Alex, but I do understand about your husband and your need to be with him. Anyhow, Alex will be enrolled in preschool soon, so daytime visits won’t be necessary.”

He closed the door on the babysitter to find Sabrina with predictable hands on her hips.

“You can’t just make plans for Alex and me behind my back.”

“Hardly behind your back. You heard the whole thing. Besides, she’s your sitter; Alex is comfortable with her. You and I talked about preschool, so how is any of this unwelcome or a surprise?”

“Alex is my responsibility. You can’t just do what you want.”

“You have no idea what I want; but I do, and I will have it.”

“Have what? What’s that supposed to mean? What are you talking about?”

Her eyes were huge. His were diving deep into hers.

“You. Now. In my bed.”

Vaguely aware that he was speaking like a caveman and sure he didn’t care, he was lifting her as he spoke and carrying her like a bundle of laundry down the hallway toward his bedroom.

“Vlad, put me down.” Her words emerged on a moan.

“Say it with more conviction and I’ll believe you.”

He dropped her gently on top of his king bed and stood over her, his forearms folded across his chest.

“Okay, I put you down.”

Her sweater had fallen off during the trip down the hall and he took his fill of her heaving breasts and the strip of pale skin visible beneath the cropped silk of her blouse. As his gaze lowered to her long booted legs, Sabrina’s breath caught in her throat.